


To Those Who Wait

by jdrush



Series: 221 B Ficlets [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Could be friendship - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Retirement, could be slash, take your pick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 14:21:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20193676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdrush/pseuds/jdrush
Summary: Life, eh?  A 221B retirement fic.





	To Those Who Wait

**Author's Note:**

> RATING: G   
WARNING: May be friendship. May be slash. Take your pick.  
DISCLAIMER: These lovely boys belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC1, and Moffat and Gatiss.  
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Still uploading some of my old fanfics to the archive. This one was originally posted to my LJ June, 2013.

John Watson never imagined his twilight years would be like this. 

His life had been filled with so much danger, so much adversity, so much heartache. The war with his family, the war in a foreign land, the war with London's criminal class. All left in the distant past.

Sitting on a porch swing, he surveys his current world. The industrious bees flitting from flower to flower. The bulldog puppy scampering around the yard. The little cottage glowing in the fading sunlight. The head of a napping mad genius resting in his lap. 

He and Sherlock had been through so much to get to this point, their friendship tested and threatened, from enemies, from themselves. Many mistakes were made over the years, much forgiveness begged for and given. Their road had been rocky, but it was worth it. 

For this.

His hand strokes through the salt-and-pepper curls of his life-long love, and he smiles. Thirty years with this brilliant, infuriating man, and John hopes they have thirty more. 

Taking a sip of tea, he sighs contentedly, the sound wafting on the breeze to combine with the soothing music of their buzzing bees, Gladstone’s happy yips, the cheeping of birds returning to their nests for the night, and Sherlock‘s even breaths.

This was John Watson’s life now. And his life was beautiful. 

THE END


End file.
